Spanish soap operas | PG | Sam, Dean, Gen
Title: Spanish soap operas
Author: lackadaisy
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen/Humor
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 712
Summary: Sam has growing pains, but is determined that it's something else. Dean humors him. Written for bekkis's Fall Fandom Free For All Request #2.
Sam dragged himself in through the front door and dropped his backpack immediately. He paused to bend over and rub at his tense calves, pressing hard on the aching muscle. He was so damn sick of this. Maybe it was the cold, if he just warmed up a bit, the sharp pains coursing through his legs would disappear. They were stopped off in Missouri this time, in the middle of winter, and it was twelve below out there. The wind cut into his cheeks like pins and needles. Whole new plains of his body he hadn't realized were there suddenly became apparent when they went entirely numb and he had to function around it. The paralyzing cold like sand at the beach, it got everywhere.
“Hey Sammy, how was school?”
Sam wandered into the living room stiff legged, finding Dean on the couch watching TV.
“It was alright, this school's a month or two behind the last one, so at least I'll manage straight A's, even if I'm not learning anything,” Sam mumbled lazily. He plopped down next to Dean, underestimating the drop and landing with a surprised 'whoa'.
“Well if you're not learning anything than you might as well not go,” Dean told him in his 'sensible' voice.
“That's not the point.”
“What is the point? You don't need a high school diploma to be a hunter.”
Yeah but you need one for just about anything else, Sam thought. But he wasn't about to say that out loud. He'd only just recently been considering the possibility, no matter how remote, of doing something other than the family business. Bringing it up when the dream was still in its fetal stage, where it could be aborted so easily, was not smart.
Sam stretched his legs, and then folded them, straightened them out again. When he was reaching down to rub at his legs again Dean was swatting at him.
“Your growing pains bothering you again?” Dean asked casually, though the parental brand of worry his big brother always held for him shone through.
Sam shook his head determinedly, still holding out hope, “Nah, 's just the cold.”
“Yeah, right,” Dean nodded, disbelievingly.
“It is!”
Sam was going to protest further when Dean stood up, but was cut off with a nonchalant, “I'm gonna go get you some aspirin for the cold, then.”
Sam gave up and set his eyes on the TV. After a few seconds he realized that whatever the hell they were watching was in spanish. It took him a little bit longer to determine from the strange echo, the sloppy kissing, and the dramatic music that it was probably a soap opera. Dean really needed to get out of the house more often.
Speakin' of, his big brother returned then, a coke in one hand and pills in the other. He deposited the painkillers in Sam's awaiting palm, and handed him the coke. Sam took the proffered medicine obediently and then set his soda down on the coffee table. He was about to demand why the hell they were watching a spanish soap opera when Dean yanked Sam's legs into his lap.
“What're you-”
“Shut up, I'm trying to watch this,” Dean snapped, his hands working out the knots in Sam's legs with practiced ease.
“Dude, you don't speak spanish, you only passed the class cuz you gave your teacher a lap dance,” Sam retorted.
Dean ignored him, eyes riveted to the TV. When a commercial came on, Dean informed him he wasn't fluent, but he could speak well enough and he understood the meat of what was being said on the show. Which led to Sam asking why he was watching a soap opera of all things. Dean didn't have an answer for that one, and Sam was getting too sleepy from the massage to tease him further. By the end of the show his pills' effects started to settle in, and his legs felt boneless in Dean's lap.
“How's that cold doing?” Dean asked, with only a slight cast of smugness to his voice.
Sam's eyes were closed and he'd slid down the couch curled up on his side, “Better,” he mumbled.
Author: lackadaisy
Characters/Pairing: Sam, Dean
Genre: Gen/Humor
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 712
Summary: Sam has growing pains, but is determined that it's something else. Dean humors him. Written for bekkis's Fall Fandom Free For All Request #2.
Sam dragged himself in through the front door and dropped his backpack immediately. He paused to bend over and rub at his tense calves, pressing hard on the aching muscle. He was so damn sick of this. Maybe it was the cold, if he just warmed up a bit, the sharp pains coursing through his legs would disappear. They were stopped off in Missouri this time, in the middle of winter, and it was twelve below out there. The wind cut into his cheeks like pins and needles. Whole new plains of his body he hadn't realized were there suddenly became apparent when they went entirely numb and he had to function around it. The paralyzing cold like sand at the beach, it got everywhere.
“Hey Sammy, how was school?”
Sam wandered into the living room stiff legged, finding Dean on the couch watching TV.
“It was alright, this school's a month or two behind the last one, so at least I'll manage straight A's, even if I'm not learning anything,” Sam mumbled lazily. He plopped down next to Dean, underestimating the drop and landing with a surprised 'whoa'.
“Well if you're not learning anything than you might as well not go,” Dean told him in his 'sensible' voice.
“That's not the point.”
“What is the point? You don't need a high school diploma to be a hunter.”
Yeah but you need one for just about anything else, Sam thought. But he wasn't about to say that out loud. He'd only just recently been considering the possibility, no matter how remote, of doing something other than the family business. Bringing it up when the dream was still in its fetal stage, where it could be aborted so easily, was not smart.
Sam stretched his legs, and then folded them, straightened them out again. When he was reaching down to rub at his legs again Dean was swatting at him.
“Your growing pains bothering you again?” Dean asked casually, though the parental brand of worry his big brother always held for him shone through.
Sam shook his head determinedly, still holding out hope, “Nah, 's just the cold.”
“Yeah, right,” Dean nodded, disbelievingly.
“It is!”
Sam was going to protest further when Dean stood up, but was cut off with a nonchalant, “I'm gonna go get you some aspirin for the cold, then.”
Sam gave up and set his eyes on the TV. After a few seconds he realized that whatever the hell they were watching was in spanish. It took him a little bit longer to determine from the strange echo, the sloppy kissing, and the dramatic music that it was probably a soap opera. Dean really needed to get out of the house more often.
Speakin' of, his big brother returned then, a coke in one hand and pills in the other. He deposited the painkillers in Sam's awaiting palm, and handed him the coke. Sam took the proffered medicine obediently and then set his soda down on the coffee table. He was about to demand why the hell they were watching a spanish soap opera when Dean yanked Sam's legs into his lap.
“What're you-”
“Shut up, I'm trying to watch this,” Dean snapped, his hands working out the knots in Sam's legs with practiced ease.
“Dude, you don't speak spanish, you only passed the class cuz you gave your teacher a lap dance,” Sam retorted.
Dean ignored him, eyes riveted to the TV. When a commercial came on, Dean informed him he wasn't fluent, but he could speak well enough and he understood the meat of what was being said on the show. Which led to Sam asking why he was watching a soap opera of all things. Dean didn't have an answer for that one, and Sam was getting too sleepy from the massage to tease him further. By the end of the show his pills' effects started to settle in, and his legs felt boneless in Dean's lap.
“How's that cold doing?” Dean asked, with only a slight cast of smugness to his voice.
Sam's eyes were closed and he'd slid down the couch curled up on his side, “Better,” he mumbled.